


Flights of Fancy

by Fey4life



Category: Leverage
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21623881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fey4life/pseuds/Fey4life
Summary: This is an 'everyone has bird wings fic'. Parker, Eliot and Hardison return home from a case worn and battered. The biggest impact is on Parker's poor burr covered wings. What follows is a bonding session with the three of them while they share one of the most vulnerable parts of themselves, their wings.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 92





	Flights of Fancy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is the first fic that I have posted in a long time. This piece takes place in a world where everyone has bird wings. This work was inspired by the art of story_telling_sage and you can view their wonderful piece at https://archiveofourown.org/works/21631093.  
> I took inspiration of everyone's wings from real birds and in my head the leverage team has wings from the following bird types:  
> Hardison: Baltimore Oriole  
> Sophie: Mute Swan  
> Nathan: Forest Raven  
> Parker: Barn Owl  
> Eliot: Aplomado Falcon
> 
> Please enjoy!

Some say life is like feathers drifting in the wind. Ever changing in their trajectory, but for the most part constantly moving. Each feather finds its own way through the air. Some may be caught in sudden updrafts sending the feather twirling upward, bobbing to and fro. Some will drift merrily downward until they catch, on a branch or root, immobile for a time, the barbs still fluttering in the passing air. Some feathers are content to never move from there, but others are suddenly ripped from their mooring, losing bits and pieces in the unsettlement. A few feathers may weather on after such a loss, while others may sink into the muck and mud, to be slowly buried underfoot. This is the story of three of those feathers. All missing bits and pieces, molded by their chaotic paths through life, but no less beautiful. Three feathers that slowly drifted along, until by happen-chance, and a job gone horribly wrong, they managed to lock together strengthening each other’s weaknesses and healing the hurts that the world had left behind.  
……………………………………………………………………….

Doors slammed as Hardison, Parker and Eliot entered the office. Not dead, this time, but definitely worse for wear. The case could have gone better. It could have gone way better, but as everyone still had all their limbs, still attached and justice was served for the clients then it could still be considered a moderate success by the team’s standards. The worst of the wounds were sustained by Eliot and included various bruises and a cut across the bridge of his nose. That didn’t mean it couldn’t have turned south very very easily.

“Dammit, Hardison. You completely over played it,” Eliot growled as he stalked towards the kitchen counter.

“I did not! I was perfectly believable,” Hardison rebutted, easily swinging around Eliot with his longer stride. 

“How is getting me blown out a window a perfectly believable performance?”

Eliot glared at Hardison over the counter, arms firmly crossed over his chest. If his wings had been out they would have been flared aggressively, large flight feathers spread and ready for take-off. A lesser man would have looked smaller without his wings, but Eliot projected his ire flawlessly and his wing movements as well as their size came across just as clearly as if they had been looming over his shoulders.

Hardison couldn’t be intimidated though. He had seen Eliot in action. Smooth lines and killer precision, but this was not the same Eliot. There was a softness here that Eliot got when he wasn’t at ‘work’. The barest shift in his eyes that turned from enraged grizzly to exasperated mama bear. A change that left Hardison room to yank on Eliot’s feathers as much as he pleased. Which he did, repeatedly by mocking Eliot’s words and throwing in hand motions and comically exaggerated expression. It was a familiar conversation, one that each of them could easily fall in to as Hardison retrieved his soda from the fridge. Easily twisting off the cap and taking a sip without losing the thread of the conversation.

Parker rolled her eyes as she bypassed them on her way to the couch. At this point she thought that this was their version of foreplay. Hardison would wind up Eliot by mocking him and Eliot would snarl at the prodding until finally taking down Hardison in a flailing of limbs. Boys were so stupid, Parker honestly didn’t get it. Why not just bypass the charade and go straight to the good stuff? That’s why she was content to wait until the flailing of limbs. It made it much easier to simply pounce on top at that point. But for now she flopped on the couch, she wanted to rest. It has been a long case on her end and it was nice to let her mind wander away from the mercurial precision that was needed to hold up her end. That, and clean up the mess that was left behind by the surveillance.

Parker stretched a wing out gingerly. Draping it over the remaining space on the couch. Her beautiful feathers were full of burrs and dripping mud. A fact that Nate would have scowled at if he hadn’t sequestered himself away in his ‘apartment’ with Sophie. The lighter layers of mud had started to flake and crack which would be the easiest to take care of. What was really drawing her ire, was the burrs that littered her feathers. They clutched at the feathers whenever she moved and she could feel them tugging now that she had a chance to spread out. Parker reached out to tug out at one cluster and scowled when it didn’t even move an inch. She glanced around in frustration, anything had to be better than just sitting here with these stuck to her. Luckily she spotted a hair brush sitting on the table. Probably abandoned by Sophie… or Elliot. They really were the only ones who would have need of a hairbrush lying around. Parker couldn’t care less what her hair looked like half the time. As long as it was up and out of the way then it was fine. What use did a thief have use for finely cared for hair? 

As long as it didn’t get in the way with her job then who cared. After all she had only just started using conditioner after Sophie gout ahold of her hair and discovered all the split ends. Now wasn’t that a lecture that she didn’t want to have to pretend to listen to again. Now, it was just easier to run through a few extra steps then face Sophie’s wrath again. For some supposedly British person she wasn’t so posh and proper when she saw something she didn’t like. She kinda turned snake-like in all honestly. Nothing like the gentle swan that her wings conveyed her as. Actually maybe she was like a swan. Didn’t they get kinda cranky sometimes? Hardison had shown her some videos of a rampaging swan once. Or was that a goose? Or geese? Was it one or two, maybe a pack…

As Parker’s mind started to run on the long debate on whether there was one goose or two geese in the videos she absently reached out for the brush and after checking the weight in her hand ran it through her wing with a rough tug. When the first pass didn’t yield anything she gripped the brush harder and started to yank. Grunting as the tug of feather sent pings of pain down her spine.

Eliot and Hardison were still going at it when the first ruffling sound managed to catch their attention. The second tug had them both turning and heading towards the couch when it became apparent what parker had started doing.

“Parker what are you doing?” asked Eliot as he slid around the couch.

“Woah woah woah baby girl. Don’t do that,” Hardison said as he sidled up behind the couch. Easily leaning over it to see what Parker was doing.

They both exploded at once as Hardison caught Parker’s wrist mid motion about to drag through her feathers again. Eliot grabbed the brush and chucked it across the room. The clunk broadcast that it had found its way to knock on the wall somewhere, probably behind the fridge. 

Hmm? Parkers mind came to a standstill as she blinked at the two males looming above her. Eliot was crouched at the corner of the couch easily able to fit in the space due to his smaller size. His wings were tucked away as always. Eliot, like Nathan, preferred to keep his wings hidden from sight. He claimed it was because it made it easier to move and the sudden appearance of his wings made for an additional block or punch on whoever their latest target was. Hardison on the other hand was leaning over the couch, brightly colored wings puffed out with agitation. Hardison liked to keep his wings on display. They were bright and colorful with splashes of sunset oranges and yellows in a sea of black and white. 

(“They are like the little things flitting about nana’s garden. Plus they make me look good, why would I hide these babies away? They are worth strutting my stuff for” he had replied when asked.)

“What? I’m just trying to get these burs out,” replied Parker as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Parker that is not how you get burs off your feathers,” Eliot groused as he gently took Parker’s wing in hand to examine the damage.

“Well how am I supposed to get them out then? They itch,” Parker said.

“You just have to be gentle. Ease them out,” Hardison added as he leaned further over Parker to get a glimpse of what Eliot was doing.

Parker looked at them both dubiously, her free hand slowly inching towards a cluster of burrs. She figured if she was quick enough then she could just rip them out and be done with it.

“Unh uh,” Hardison cajoled as he easily caught her hand. He slid his grip to instead link their finger together as he came to perch on the arm of the couch, keeping Parker’s attention as Eliot slid away to his cubby where he kept his personal belongings. Eliot searched for a moment before coming back with a clear bottle in hand. Settling in on the couch beside her.

“What is that?” asked Parker.

“It’s wing oil. It keeps your feathers all glossy and shiny. Keeps them healthy you know. Didn’t you learn this as a kid?” Hardison asked.

“No. I learned how to rob a highly secure museum with lasers and pressure sensitive flooring. Much better things to be learning.”

There was a slightly awkward silence as Hardison internally winced. Parker had said it so plainly. She didn’t see anything wrong with the lack of knowledge, but both Eliot and Hardison did. Wing grooming was something that you did with your family and really close friends growing up. Kids got their wings around puberty. Not only did the up-and-coming teens have to face pimples, hormones and making bad choices, but they also had to deal with wings bursting out of their backs. Some had an easier transition then others. 

The lucky ones would be stretching during PE when suddenly they were flat on their fronts with two dead weights flopping behind them. Others, like Hardison, didn’t have it so easy. Hardison’s wings came in patches. The end result was beautiful, but the in-between? Not fun at all. His back had been burping out fuzzy baby feathers for weeks before they finally emerged. After that Hardison enjoyed hours spent cuddled next to Nana while she went over wing care and gently helped massage out the wing muscles as everything settled in to place.

After your emergence the wings needed to be out for the next month before they could be safely folded in again. That gave enough time for everything to settle in and the muscles to develop properly. Wing grooming was essential then, almost a fact of life. It was a rite of passage and a show of trust. Wings are one of the most vulnerable parts of the body. They were bracketed with bone and muscle but the feathers themselves were delicate and hundreds of nerves lay under the plumage. What made them so specialized for flight also left them a huge target. It was one of the reasons that Eliot kept his tucked away except in moments of surprise. You could use them to your advantage, but if you weren’t highly trained then they were two dead weights. On the other hand it was also one of the reasons Sophie kept them on display. They made her look naive and delicate. All wide eyes and gentle curves under a blanket of white feathers.

The fact that Parker had not gotten to experience that broke something in Eliot and Hardison. The image of a smaller, skinnier Parker hiding out in a room for a month while she was ‘compromised’ and waiting for her wings to fade was prevalent in both their minds. 

“Parker just sit,” Eliot said.

Eliot gently pulled her wing over his lap as he made himself comfortable on the couch. Hardison perched himself on the armrest on the other side of Parker, easily fitting his body into the empty spaces left on the couch. Parker rolled her eyes as she slumped back into Hardison’s legs, arms firmly crossed over her chest. Eye roll broadcast to the other two, but still watching Eliot’s deft movements as he carded his fingers through her flight feathers.

“I just don’t see the point,” Parker said.

“We know that Parker, but you don’t go ripping these things out,” Eliot replied.

“It’s like when you get ready to propel for a job. You don’t just jump off right? There’s some planning beforehand.” Harrdison said. Continuing on before Parker could interrupt that she had in fact jumped unprepared. “For a job Parker. Not for fun. I don’t even want to get into the crazy shit you do for fun.”

A fox like smile slipped across her lips as Parker clearly started to reminisce on some of her own brand of ‘crazy’ that she had committed in the name of a good time. 

Eliot’s lips twitched. He could also think of a number of times that he had to step in to fish both Parker and Hardison out of a heap of trouble because they were in pursuit of a good time. He glanced back down to the wing in his lap and after liberally coating his fingers in the oil he began to gently slide his hands through the feathers of Parkers wing. Eliot’s fingers would continue down a set path until he encountered a grouping of burs and then he would gently apply a bit more oil to the area and massage it into the burs until they were soft enough to pull off. He was thorough and precise, but his fingers were never rough. They glided over Parker’s wing with the utmost care, gently stroking and carding through the feathers.

Parker and Eliot had slowly slipped into silence as they watched Eliot work. His hands were not delicate by any means, but there was a map of hard work across the skin. They were an artist’s hands, strong and sure.

Parker settled more firmly against Hardison as tension bled from her body. The feel of Eliot petting her wing was one of the most relaxing things she had ever felt. No wonder people talked about wing grooming with such high esteem. It felt fantastic! With Eliot’s hands sorting through her right wing and her left hand firmly entwined with Hardison’s Parker felt more grounded than she had ever felt.

“Skooch over Baby girl,” Hardison said as Eliot finished up on her right wing. Hardison easily switched places with Eliot as he pulled Parker against his chest. In this new position Parker was laid out against Hardison, their legs curled together and her left wing draped over Eliot’s lap. Eliot had seamlessly switched to grooming her other wing and was making quick progress. 

Hardison shifted a bit before curling his left wing to comfortably enclose Parker in its protection, his right wing still comfortably folded beneath them both. 

Eliot untangled the last collection of burs at the base of Parker’s flight feather before scooping the lot up to deposit in the trash. He stayed in the kitchen for a moment just watching. He was the protector, he always had been and moments like this where his charges were safe and warm warmed his soul like nothing else could. He had seen some awful shit in this world. Blood and screams that haunted his sleep, but he would find it all fading when Parker laughed in that innocent way or Hardison made one of his quips. They were his as much as he was theirs.

Hardison glanced over the top of the couch where he and Parker were resting. One of his eyebrows quirked up in question. He would have risen from the couch to pull Eliot over, but Parker was already starting to doze. Her weight warm and lax against his chest. It was all up to Eliot.

Eliot’s lips slipped in to an easy smile in reply before his wings spread out behind him. They were glorious. Large and deft they easily navigated through the furniture as he made his way back towards the pair. He settled behind Parker, his wings coming to enclose them all, gently brushing over Hardison’s spread wings and Parker’s lax ones. He couldn’t quite settle in to sleep like Parker had, but in the cocoon of warmth that had enveloped them all, something in him had begun to relax. They were dirty and wounded, but in this moment they were whole.


End file.
